The Idols of Lavender Brown
by The Jew in Gryffindor
Summary: The storys of a few Mirrors, and their pleas to METMA. Viva la METMA!
1. The Idol of Lavender Brown

The Idols of Miss Lavender Brown  
  
((i don't know if this is about Lavender Brown, I just liked the title....i'll give you a cookie if you know what it is from!))  
  
((ok fine...i don't want to give you a cookie. The title is from, either, i can't really remember, The Idols of Miss Sarah Brown, The Idols of Sarah Brown, the Idles of Miss Sarah Brown or The Idles of Sarah Brown...one of those was the start of the musical Guys and Dolls))  
  
Hello. I am a mirror. But not just any mirror. Lavender Brown's mirror. And do you know how hard it is being a mirror for that girl? I barely get any sleep. She worships me. Therefore, I, and I alone, am the Idol of Miss Lavender Brown.  
  
Every morning, she wakes up, and says to me.  
  
"Mirror Mirror on my bed.  
  
Who has the prettiest head?"  
  
Thank the man in the giant tub of windex in the sky that I am not enchanted to tell the truth. Because, if I was, I would answer like this:  
  
"Definately not you! You are positively revolting! You make me sick! Please, take your head away! It hurts my eyes!"  
  
But no, Miss Brown, wanting to keep her self inflated ego as high as possible, charmed me so I could only say.  
  
"You, of course, my dear. Who else is as pretty as you? No one!"  
  
I want to vomit everytime I say it, and mirrors don't vomit, so that is really saying something. How I wish I were that Hermione girl's mirror. That mirror is never used. Ok, so she is covered with dust, but she snickers at me everytime Lavender does that. How am I supposed to have a normal single mirror life if this one girl, who I don't like, and isn't even another mirror, fawns over me?  
  
So please, METMA help me! Rescue me from this place of terror. Let me be a mirror for someone else, Ronald Weasly for example, or Severous Snape, that man never washes his hair let alone look in a mirror. So please, I beg you, put me out of my misery, and save me from this fate worse then death.  
  
  
  
A/N: Stay tuned, for perhaps I might write about the plight of the mirror belonging to Gilderoy Lockhart, that is, until he lost all his memory. READ AND REVEIW! 


	2. The Head Mirror of Gilderoy Lockhart

Dear METMA,  
  
I speak to you on behalf of all of the mirrors belonging to a Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart. We have begged and pleaded with you to rescue us from this man. Yet you have done nothing. Every day, every single day, and every night, every single night, he kept us awake and from rest by constantly checking his reflection. At first we chalked it up to nerves. Maybe he had someone to impress, perhaps? Then we thought Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or some other human mental disease was to blame. Why else would he constantly look and look and look? But no, we mirrors unfortunately found out, he was past OCD, way far past it. He was infatuated with himself. He kept buying more and more mirrors! He wouldn't stop! Soon there were hundreds of us, thousands of us, but he would not stop looking. I, being the oldest mirror, was appointed head mirror. I had to govern over so many of us. We were misused, we were abused, mistreated! Yet you did nothing, simply let us stay there. He broke us if his face was too red, he smashed us if he had a pimple, like it was our fault. Over his house loomed the ghosts of so many young mirrors lost. Soon his house was over-flowing, though he left often to write new fake books. Books in which he described awesome feats which he never really had partaken in. Had you come to save us, METMA, we would have told you. I, since I was his oldest and most trusted mirror, accompnied him everywhere, even though I was as big as him, and very heavy, with my silver paned glass and oak frame. He spoke to me, he kissed me, he whispered sweet nothings in my ear. But those nothings were the ravings of a deranged lunatic. Oh, now, of course, I'm sure you are nodding, yes, yes, this is true, but, dear METMA, when we first wrote you, you probably shook your heads, no, no, what are they saying? This cannot be, but ah, dear METMA, it was. Gilderoy became at teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and, I am sad to say, he took each and every one of us with him. Had he not, some of us may have been able to escape. Alas, however, each and every one of us was carefully wrapped in newsprint and lovingly stacked in a box to be taken with him. I, however, and most unfortunately, never left his side. All through the train ride, he checked me to make sure he did not appear too green, to make sure his hat was on just right, to check to see that the garlic and choclate brussel sprout bean ((his very favorite kind)) was not stuck in his teeth. He spoke to me. He kissed me. He told me he was georgous, and wise, and handsome, and powerful, and, the best of all, cute. He told me that he would take this Harry Potter and become the most awesome of celebrities. I told you, METMA, but you refused to listen. You closed your ears and eyes and heart to us, though we begged and pleaded for rescue. This continued for the whole school year, through late night book signings, and avacado masks to keep his face young. And then, came that fateful night, which I am sure you all heard about, in which Mr. Lockhart had his own memory curse fail, and hit him instead. From then on, he has been scared of us. At first he thought we were pools, in which to bathe, and he tried to jump into us. He had quite a few cuts. So then, he saw his own face in them, and thought someone had cloned him, or he had a twin. This, he didn't like, so more of us perished. He is still smashing us, and we have taken to hiding in the upmost corner of the attic. Please save us METMA, as we still trust you, even though you have done us wrong.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
The Head Mirror  
  
  
  
A/N: this is one seriously depressed mirror. Sorry bout that. Don't worry, in the next chapter, all will be well! Oh yeah, I don't own Gilderoy Lockhart, but I suppose that thousands of his mirrors belong to me! 


	3. A New Agent Jew, and A Mirror Rescued

A/N: Don't read this if you have a fear of Jews, Girls, Gryffindor, Mirrors, METMA or Owls That Are Not House-Trained  
  
  
  
The Jew in Gryffindor rolled over in bed. A soft fluttering was heard overhead, and she turned to see a rather large owl. She rolled out of bed to avoid the owl which was relieving itself on her pillow. She began swatting at it, and it dropped three letters on the windowsill before flying away. The Jew cleaned up the mess with her wand and read the letters. The first one was hastily scrawled on what looked like a pink tissue covered with lipstick blots. It was from Lavender Brown's mirror. The Jewish Girl glanced over at it, and then turned to read the next letter. It was long and very fancy, but half of it was it telling METMA that they had never saved it. It was written by Gilderoy Lockhart's Head Mirror. The girl scratched her head, sighed, and finally read the last letter. It was written on a piece of notebook paper, and the ink was splotchy. The Girl figured that A:the person who wrote it had a faulty pen, or B:the person who wrote it had too many oreos and was on an almost dangerous sugar high.  
  
Take a wild guess which was right  
  
The letter read  
  
To: The Jew in Gryffindor  
  
From: The Head of METMA...or someone pretending to be the Head of METMA, in which case, would probably still be the Head of METMA, because, I mean, who really wants to be the Head of METMA, ok, ok, fine, I'm not really the Head of METMA, I'm just the Head of the Special Agents department. Ok? You happy now? I told you! You just positively giddy that I told you? Huh? HUH?  
  
It continued in that vein for a while. The Girl skipped over it, and finally reached the body of the letter. It went as follows:  
  
Congradulations! You have been chosen as a special agent for METMA! Why don't you just relax, sit back, and have a cup of coffee while patting yourself on the back? On second thought, no, don't do that. Just get cracking on this case so you won't be fired, decapitated, and have your ears on a platter. What is METMA you ask? I would explain, but time is of the essence. Ok, since you twisted my arm, I'll tell you. Muggles for Equal Treatment of Magical Artifacts. Listen, bub, don't get smart with me, I know you aren't a muggle. That is why you are a SPECIAL agent, smart one. Keep reading this dumb letter or I will hurt you.  
  
The Girl raised her eyebrows a bit, but continued to read  
  
Anyway, we have decided to choose some well placed witches and wizards to help us save all mistreated magical artifacts. Currently, as shown by the two, less important, letters, that I am sure you read first just to hurt my feelings, and cause me to have another oreo binge, anyhow, you will be rescuing these mirrors. I think that you may know either one or both Lavender Brown and Gilderoy Lockhart. Anyway, because you are magic, and I'm not, believe me, I checked, and I have to scars to prove that I can't really play quidditch, let me tell you, you will have the most dangerous task of rescuing these mirrors. And, if you fail, well, I personally won't be able to do anything, but you will definately have a lot of bad luck heading your way lady, so you better watch out. And METMA Mandy will probably pelt you with cookies and false antlers, but lets not get into that. Just rescue the dumb mirrors already!  
  
Signed  
  
Why aren't you saving those mirrors yet?  
  
Oh! You mean my NAME!  
  
Oh. Ok then.  
  
Head of Special Agents Department of METMA  
  
The Girl sighed, folded up the letters, and placed them in her robe. She decided to save Lavender Brown's mirror first. She walked over to Lavender Brown's bed, which Lavender Brown herself was sitting on in a positvely revolting pink robe and cooing to her mirror:  
  
Lavender: Mirror Mirror on my bed, who has the prettiest head?  
  
Mirror:*Gags*  
  
The Jew in Gryffindor: LAVENDER! HEY LAVENDER! LOOK OVER THERE! SOMEONE PRETTIER THEN YOU!  
  
Lavender:*looking wildly around* Where? Where? Let me find them, and I will scratch their eyes out! Then they won't be so pretty any more, will they? *waves wand at hand, giving her foot long neon pink nails and stalks out of room screaming like a banshee*  
  
Mirror: Thanks, but why did you do that?  
  
The Jew in Gryffindor: I'm a special agent for METMA  
  
Mirror: Really? Great! Anyway, I was wondering, if you could replace me with that mirror over there *points in general direction of Hermione's mirror, which is snoring loudly.*  
  
The Jew in Gryffindor: *is slightly surprised that mirrors can point, and that she can understand them* Er, ok, sure, I'll do that. But I'm just wondering, why can I talk to mirrors? I never could before.  
  
Mirror: when you start working for METMA, strange things start to happen. BELIEVE ME!  
  
The Jew in Gryffindor: Ok, I believe you. *believes him* So you mean this mirror over there? *points to Hermione's mirror, which is covered in dust, and snorts a bit*  
  
Mirror: yeah, that one  
  
The Jew in Gryffindor:Oh, ok *walks over to Hermione's mirror, waves wand, and it is automatically dusted. The dust transfers to Lavender's mirror, who sighs with relief*  
  
Mirror:*sighs with relief*  
  
The Jew in Gryffindor:*puts spell on Hermione's mirror to say what Lavender's mirror USED to have to say, and switches the two*  
  
Lavender:*returns* Ha! That Pansy Parkinson will never know what hit her. Where was I? Oh yeah! *runs over to bed* Mirror Mirror on my bed, who has the prettiest head?  
  
Hermione's, now Lavender's Mirror:*groans*  
  
Lavender's, and now Hermione's, now dust covered Mirror: Thanks METMA! 


End file.
